


Fading

by timelessmemories20



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Artemis and Zeus are mentioned they aren't exactly in it, Gen, No Dialogue, Short, Sort Of, ish, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelessmemories20/pseuds/timelessmemories20
Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen to a god. Gods weren't supposed to forget.Then again, Apollo isn't a god anymore.





	Fading

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I recently read the Burning Maze (finally...), and this idea was in my mind for awhile afterwards, so I decided to give it a try. It's not as long as I would like it to be, but it'll have to do for now.

Forgetting was a terrifying feeling. When Apollo was a god, he never forgot anything – he’ll willingly admit this now, as being stuck in the body of a human made him reflect on a lot – and he would remember a lot of things, both good and bad, both his victories and mistakes. Forgetting and _choosing_ to forget were two very different things, he’s found.

Since becoming Lester, Apollo has experienced the capacity for mortal memory first hand. Although, his might be more serious than most. The edges of his memories, foggy, and so out of reach. Sometimes he thinks he could reach them if he stuck his hand out far enough, peered off the edge of his mind _just enough_ , then he could grasp _something_. Something he’s forgotten, something that would help him and his friends on their quests. But he couldn’t. His memories came and went, gone faster than he could blink.

There were a lot of memories that faded from his newly mortal mind. Their details were lost to him, with only fragments remaining. Fortunately, he still recalled his birth, Hyacinthus’s face, the first time he received his bow, his first time delighting the world with his music…those all stored within the confines of his memory -- and he was genuinely grateful for all of that. However, he couldn't stop the bitterness flowing in his heart at the things he didn't remember. Were the other things that were also important to Apollo not important to Zeus? How does his father get to choose what memory was worth keeping?

He wished he could remember Mount Olympus. He saw little pieces in his mind, but Olympus was much too grand for a _human_ to see it. He thinks it emitted a golden light, he thinks it was on a high point, tall enough to see the world below. The view, he remembers, always calmed him. He spent countless of hours staring down at the world, memorizing its little features. He _thinks_ someone sat with him, silently, as the two admired the sights. He can’t remember who, but he knew that he always looked forward to their time together. He wished he could remember the sound of his lyre when he would play during meal time up on Olympus. He could remember that it was one of the only times his family didn’t fight, because a song by the god of music is always calming. He thinks that the muses danced when he played, but that detail of the memory was lost on him. The sound of the lyre, the lyrics, the expressions of his family – all of it was gone.

But the important things he’s forgotten, things that make his heart ache, is what he missed the most. Hermes’s laugh when the two brothers would try everything and anything to entertain each other (was it a game? He can’t remember), his long and insightful conversations with Athena, a game he would play with Dionysus that involved wine (what was it? A drinking game?), the warmth of the sun chariot…

There was something else he missed.

He couldn’t say it though. He couldn’t even think of it. If he thought about it, then it would become a reality. It was a ridiculous idea, he knew that, but he couldn’t take a chance of it becoming _real_. He wanted to hold onto the image in his mind as hard as he could, grip the edges of it as if it were being pulled away from him.

Apollo could feel his body tremble in his seat of the helicopter, reality creeping on the edges of his mind as he tried to deny it.

_His sister’s face_. _Artemis_.

He was forgetting every little thing about her. The color of her eyes, the color of her hair, and the sound of her voice. Were her eyes as bright as the moon? Did she have calluses on her hands? All the little facts and details of Artemis were fading away the more he spent trapped in this human body. The two were – supposed to be – twins, and yet Apollo couldn’t imagine his sister looking like Lester. _Human Lester_ , the one with acne and flab.

It _hurt_. Out of all the pain he’s felt since becoming a human, _nothing was worse than this_. He _couldn’t_ forget his sister. And yet, her face was turning blurry in his mind, the once prominent details he could recall with ease becoming nothing more than _what-ifs_. He’d give _anything_ to be able to at least recall her smile, the color of her eyes, or the sound of her laugh. Apollo hoped this wasn’t his father’s doing. Surely Zeus would not be so cruel as to steal the memory of his sister from him?

He wondered if Artemis knew. Could she feel that she was becoming a blurry mess in his mind? Did she feel this sense of crushing despair as he did? Apollo felt selfish when he wanted her to. The thought of being the only one suffering, for his family to be willingly blind to his pain, especially _this_ pain, hurt.

In the back of his mind, Apollo knew that he’d forget about Artemis. Only her name would be remembered, because that name stood firm in his mind. It was a terrible thought that his sister would be nothing more than a name within his thoughts, a name without a face, without a personality. Apollo knew he couldn’t endure that much pain. He wasn’t strong enough.

For now, he’d cling onto the image of his sister. Anything and everything he could remember of her – and he’d hope that her features would fill in the blurry picture in his mind, that somehow, she’d help him. But he knew that was impossible. If she were able to help him, more than what she’s already done, she would have done it – Artemis would never allow him to suffer through this if she could do anything about it, that he was certain.

Apollo stared down at his lap, wiping away stray tears that managed to sneak down his face. He couldn’t voice any of this to his friends, or even to Meg. That would make it real – even more real than in his thoughts. What comfort could they give him anyway? He valued their presence and help, but they didn’t know what it was like for a (former) god to forget, and the feelings of fear and sadness.

It was moments like this where he realized the severity of his situation in ways he hasn’t before: Gods don’t forget. Humans _do_. And Apollo was human in every sense of the word. Soon, the memories in his mind of his former life as a god would all become like the memory of his sister. Blurry, names without faces. Only the human Lester would remain, the image of Apollo fading away to nothingness. He should have been upset about this. He should have been terrified, even angry - angry at his father for putting him through this. But he didn't have the strength. It was fading, similar to the image of his sister.

When Artemis vanishes from his mind, would he have the strength to be anything but Lester? As Apollo stared down at his lap, listening to the steady movements of the helicopter, a small part of him knew that he would find the answer to his question. He has never felt so far away from his sister than ever before.


End file.
